#c: sigmund

[insurrection-if]

ROs reaction to that "I want a baby" meme?🤭

Oh, I love this meme! (ㅅ´ ˘ `)♡

I wanted to add the minor romances too, but that exceeds the maximum screenshots per post (10). ╮(╯∀╰)╭ For the sake of scrollers, I’ll place the screenshots for the main romances below the cut:

Akil

Kamiko

Sigmund

Imka

Elouan

Jae

Niccolò

Mutya

Fyodor

If you remove the ‘let’s wait’ aspect of the first response, he’s a mixture of these:

Thank you so much for this ask! (　´∀｀)b

[jeannepompadour]

"Dancing girl" by Sigmund Walter Hampel (1868-1949)

[pranklinfierce]

It is the centennial of Woodrow Wilson's death day! ⚰️ 🎉

@anorexic-bitch-from-the-swamp @ruburnz you're my target audience

[squids-comics]

This Science Sunday will be a bit shorter, and will look at this series of panels here!

Here, The Wizard is attempting to turn The Thing evil with Freudian Psychology! This is an outdated method of thinking and decision making that has a lot of prominence in pop culture because it was one of the first models proposed.

Freud's theory claims that we have three voices inside our head: the conscious ego, the unconscious superego, and the unconscious id. Freud speculated that the ego was comprised of all our thoughts and feelings, and was the decision maker of the brain. He also thought that, while we couldn't hear our superego or id, they would subtly influence our decision making in meaningful ways. He believed the superego compelled you to act selflessly and help people, while following laws and being a good person. The id on the other hand was compelled to seek reward. It would chase junk food and cocaine (which Freud did a lot of). These two voices would subtly nudge your ego towards certain decisions, like the trope of the angel and the devil on your shoulders.

This theory has never been proven, or even had supporting evidence shown, making me hesitant to call this a Science Sunday. Pseudoscience Sunday may be closer. No matter if you believe the theory or not, Stan Lee's understanding of it seems to be a little lacking, as as soon as The Thing has his id enlarged, he immediately tries to kill all his friends. This isn't the kind of instant gratification behaviour the id is known to seek. It also wouldn't make him any easier to control. It might actually make him harder to control, as he'd be more inclined to act in his own self interest.

[underthewingsofthblackeagle]

[asgoodeasgold]

Sony Pictures Classics have released a 3rd onset still, of Anthony Hopkins as Sigmund Freud in Freud's Last Session.

Not long to wait now!

Reminder of key dates:

🔸️ World premiere at AFI Festival on 27 Oct followed by conversation with Director Matt Brown

🔸️ Opens on 22 Dec in NY & LA

🔸️ Wider theatrical release in Jan 24

[bontentrio]

ATEEZ GETTING OUT OF THE FRIENDZONE

san x gn reader + mingi x gn reader (separated)

part 2 to ateez stuck in the friendzone! read that part so this makes sense

tw: slow burn + veeery dramatic + angst + fluff

a/n: both have the slowestttt slow burns in history of friends to lovers omg my heart did kinda break a little while writing them lol so keep in mind that both are VERY dramatic. maybe even cliche but honestly i just wrote what i, personally, enjoy reading. i’m just a girl in love with love 🥹

masterlist

SAN

san found himself attempting to hide his smile while you told him about your awful date from a few days ago. you were laying down with your head on his lap as san casually untangled strands of your hair, while you rambled on and on about the misfortunes he secretly thought were fortunes in disguise.

“who talks about their mother on the first date? like the whole time i mean, of course it’s okay to mention one or two things following the context of the conversation” you said, moving your hands dramatically to prove your point “but the whole time? i tried to switch the topic of the conversation towards work and can you believe he told me about what his mother does for a living before telling me what HE does for HIS?”

san couldn’t help but let out a loud laugh. you were so cute and he was so happy and relieved that the date had failed.

“he should go to therapy” he said, in between giggles. “right?! sigmund freud would have been thrilled to have him as a patient” you exclaimed, laughing too.

after a few moments of cracking jokes and laughing about the situation, you turned your head to face san. “so what about you?” you asked. he looked down at you, smile on his face still. “what about me?”

“have you gone on dates lately?” you asked. he threw his head back, shaking it slightly “with what time? i’m too busy with schedules” he answered, half lying. it’s true that he’s very busy with his idol duties, but he always managed to make time for you. he knows he could easily use up that time to go on dates, but for obvious reasons that you still were ignorant to, he didn’t. to you, he was just an introvert.

“but are you not interested in anyone?” you pushed, lifting your head and sitting up to face him properly. san chose to avoid your eyes, not trusting himself to keep his own secret. instead, he looked to the city on his right, suddenly finding the building architectures more interesting. he noticed that the air in the terrace got warmer too, and the concrete platform you were sitting on got harder. or was he the one that got warmer and stiffer? “no, i don’t think so” he lied, but you knew him enough to see through it. “liar, you’re blushing”

“well it is an intimate question” he answered, attempting to smile in order to play it off. you shook your head no “you blushed and your left eye twitched a bit. that was definitely a lie and as your best friend i want to know!” you exclaimed, grabbing his hands. if only you knew the effect you had on him.

when he came back from tour, he was determined to confess. but now that the perfect opportunity arose, he couldn’t open his mouth. questions and different negative scenarios plagued his mind, convincing him that maybe it was a bad idea. he much rather work on moving on than lose you as a friend.

“are they that special to you?” you asked, in a much quieter tone of voice, noticing his silence. he nodded, staring at your eyes, hoping you could notice the love they held whenever he looked at you. but despite his desperation, you didn’t. “they are very lucky then, you genuinely are amazing in every aspect sannie”. you continued, going back to your original place with your head on his lap, but still holding his hands. he kept staring at you, if only you knew.

“thank you” san managed to say.

———

“how fast can you come over to help me with something?” you asked san on the phone, as he exited the practice room. it was like the stars aligned, because he had just finished for the day. “i can come over right now, are you okay?” he asked, worried something may be wrong despite you sounding relatively okay. “i can’t pick an outfit and- shit my aunt his calling me, invite yourself in when you arrive, i’m in my room and you already know the lock number of the door” you said, before hanging up.

outfit for what?

———

so that’s how san found himself sitting on your bed on a friday night, numerous pieces of clothing scattered all over without care. he scrolled through some unread messages while he waited for you to try on a different outfit for your new date. yes, new date. as if his heart haven’t just healed from last time.

“i matched with someone on this app and they immediately invited me on a date so now i’m having a fashion crisis” you had explained to him as soon as he entered your room. why was it so hard for you to realize that your dates have been failing for a reason?

you appeared once again, now wearing an outfit that honestly took san’s breath away as soon as his eyes landed on your figure. it was nothing too extravagant, actually, it was rather simple, but it was enough to make san’s head spiral. specially when you twirled around to show the outfit from the back, since your shirt had an open back.

“so? what do we think?” you asked, eyes filled with hope.

san was conflicted: he was 100% sure he has never seen anyone look more beautiful, more dashing, more perfect. but, it wasn’t for him. he didn’t want anyone else to look at you like that, they would never come remotely close to the way he feels about you.

“san-?” you started to ask after a few seconds of silence, but got interrupted by him: “don’t go on that date”

you looked at him confused, as he stared back with the same surprised face. that really had slipped from his lips before he realized what he was saying. you fucked up big time san, he thought to himself.

“why? do i really look that bad?” you asked, turning around to face the mirror in order to examine your body and face. he noticed the way your eyes dimmed, as you carefully traced your eyes over your figure, finding little imperfections that made your face turn into a sad frown. san felt his own heart shatter at the sight, and before he knew, he stood up and quickly hugged you from behind, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

“sannie?” you asked, startled by his sudden action and making you momentarily forget about the insecurities that started flooding your mind. you looked at him through the mirror: even if he was leaning down on you, he was still much wider, making you feel very small in his arms. unconsciously, you lifted your hand and patted his hair. san lifted his head, looking at you through the mirror as well, and your eyes interlocked.

“you’re perfect y/n” he whispered. “i’m sorry if i gave you the wrong idea, you look beautiful and your date is very lucky”. he was trying to be supportive, but traces of sadness and desperation were evident in his face. enough for you to notice. you turned around, and the same hand that was patting his head went down to his cheek, holding him in place to look at you.

“what’s wrong san?” you asked, softly. your thumb traced comforting circles on his cheek, and you could feel his arms tighten around you as he closed his eyes.

“go on that date” he whispered in a shaky voice, before adding “you look beautiful”.

you stared at him confused for a few moments, not really knowing what to say. then, he kissed your forehead and, with the little bit of strenght he had left in him, unwrapped his arms, stepping back. he grabbed his jacket and went to the door, but not before shooting you another sad look and saying “like i said, your date is very lucky”.

he left, heart in his hands, slowly breaking with each step.

you cancelled the date.

———

san couldn’t sleep that night, he kept tossing and turning as his mind wandered about what you were doing with your date. were you still having dinner? no, probably not since it’s like 2 am. maybe it went so well that you invited them over for coffee at your place, something that will probably lead to something else. something he didn’t even want to imagine, since it wasn’t him committing those sins.

maybe it was time to move on, after all. he wants you to be happy, truly, so if your happiness doesn’t include him, then he should at least be supportive. and in order to do that from the bottom of his heart, he should move-

*knock knock knock* he heard, coming from the door. he decided to ignore it, thinking that it was probably mingi, so he turned around and closed his eyes, pretending he was asleep.

“maybe he’s asleep, i should come back tomorrow but thank you soenghwa” he heard you say from behind the door. he never got out of bed faster, as he sprinted to the door and opened it widely.

there you stood, now dressed in a familiar oversized shirt and baggy pants. completely different from the outfit he last saw you on, but to him you still looked beautiful. you looked at him with wide eyes, as seonghwa smirked next to you.

“i’ll leave you alone” he said, before he made his way to his room and shut the door behind him.

you stood there awkwardly, avoiding his eyes. you came here with a question, but now that you had san right in front of you, thoughts were scattered all over your mind and you couldn’t say a word.

“come in” he said, sensing your internal dilemma. you nodded in response, as you entered and made your way to his unmade bed.

“did i wake you up?” you asked. san shut the door and shook his head “actually i couldn’t sleep”

“me neither” you said in a low voice.

“how was your date?” he asked, unsure of what to say. he sat next to you on the bed, looking at you while trying to decipher your expression. you turned your head to san’s bedside table, finding the small plushie you once gifted him randomly. you smiled. “i cancelled it”

“what? why?!” he asked, with surprised wide eyes. you turned back to him. “i suddenly didn’t want to go, that’s it really. so while i was tidying up my room i found this shirt” you said, fiddling with the ends of the shirt that looked a little too big on you “the one you once lent me after we got stuck in the rain that one time. i told you i would wash it and give it back, but i didn’t. why didn’t i give it back to you?”

san stared at you in silence.

“so i realized it still had your perfume, and before i knew it, i had put it on. then i started thinking about you, about us. you’re my best friend, you know? but as i was laying down on my bed, i was thinking: what if you were not? what if my dates always failed for a reason?” you continued, as your fingers reached for his. “what if the reason they always failed was because i always searched you in them? so again, before i realized i was standing in front of your apartment, but with one question in my mind”

san could feel his heart beat increase and his breath shorten.

“what will happen to us and our friendship if i told you how i feel? how i think i always felt even if i didn’t know it?” you asked, looking at him scared.

“you’re dumb” he said, loud enough for only you to hear. that didn’t surprise you, what did was the way he immediately let go of your hand in order to hug you close, bringing you closer to his body. “what will happen? how would i feel? y/n you’re dumb because that’s how i’ve been feeling for a long time now” he said, hands leaving your waist and craddling your face. san stared at you, and now you realized that his eyes looked different: they held love in them. something you always searched on random people in dating apps, yet were never able to find. instead, it has been right in front of you this whole time.

“i love you” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. finally, he thought. he finally said the words he has been keeping locked deeply inside him for years. you smiled, as your nose touched his. “i love you too, i’m sorry i just realized”

maybe it was time to give you the silver necklace he bought you on tour, since now the timing was right.

MINGI

mingi missed you, a lot. he hadn’t heard from you since you stormed out of his house a week and a half ago. he had left you a couple of texts apologizing, and even attempted calling you, but to no avail. you had disappeared, and he didn’t blame you, he was stupid enough to let you go. in fact, that’s the thing he regretted the most about the fight: not chasing after you.

so he did what he knew best: he took his misery and transformed it into work, to be precise, he wrote three songs, all about his feelings, the situation in itself and you.

three different scenarios that made him hear yunho’s voice calling him dramatic in his mind. to be honest, he knew he was being a little dramatic about the situation. he knew that you probably just needed time to cool down, and that if his apology was good enough you would forgive him in a heart beat, because, in the end, he knew you loved him. maybe not in the way he wished for, but you loved him nonetheless.

mingi stared at the ceiling in silence, wondering what were you doing while he layed on his bed feeling miserable. did you miss him too? were you also thinking about him? he was certain of one thing only: he wanted to see you. it didn’t matter to him if you opened the door or not, he needed to at least hear your voice through the door.

he checked the time: 11:47 pm, almost midnight. fuck it, he thought. he stood up and quickly got dressed in a speed record time, tied up his shoes and grabbed his keys and song notebook in the process. by 11:55 pm he was already closing the door of his car.

as mingi started driving, questions also started flooding his mind: will you hate him if he suddenly showed up? what if you had invited someone over? shouldn’t he have discussed this with one of his friends first just in case?

questions, questions, questions.

no answers.

soon enough, he found himself standing in front of your apartment door. he could easily ring the door bell, knock on the door or simply use the spare key you gave him once for emergencies. yet, he was unable to do any, frozen in place as he mentally debated on what to do.

mingi decided to do something odd, something he would have probably laughed at if he saw it in one of the movies you usually forced him to watch with you: he took out his pen and notebook, ripped off one of the pages and wrote on it. then, he slid it under the door and left.

“i’ll tell you everything -m”

———

you have always been a hopeless romantic, mingi knew that perfectly well. you believed in happy endings, and that love and friendship can win over everything. so why hasn’t he heard from you still? did you not get the note? should he leave another one? no, that would be too pushy, it was only two days ago.

questions, questions, questions.

still no answers.

mingi was sulking again, and honestly it started to worry seonghwa and san, who watched as he walked back to his room right after dinner, without saying a word during the whole night. honestly, he was just too lost in his thoughts. their pair exchanged a look, before following him.

“mingi, hold up, everything okay? you’re more… distracted than usual” seonghwa said, carefully choosing his words. mingi hummed in response, nodding as he stopped in his tracks. “yeah, there’s just a lot in my head” he answered, not looking at his friends. “let us hear it then” san said, patting his back and leading them towards the living room.

the trio sat down on the sofa they had bought a few months ago, the one you had scolded them about because it seemed very expensive and too hard to clean. they had all laughed, but soon enough realized you were right when mingi spilled a bit of sauce on it. the stain was still there.

“so? what’s wrong?” seonghwa asked once they all got comfortable. mingi sighed, looking down before he started spilling everything that had happened, from two weeks ago until now. he noticed the eldest nodding along the story, but neither of them said anything until he finished.

“when exactly did you leave this note?” san asked, fidgeting with his bracelet. “two days ago” mingi answered. san’s eyes went wide, as he muttered a small fuck before he sprinted towards the kitchen. seonghwa and mingi exchanged a look, both equally confused at their friend’s actions. after a few moments and very weird sounds that came from the kitchen, san appeared again, with a crumbled up yellow post it in his hand. he handed it to mingi.

“the hell is this? it has food stains san, gross” mingi said with a disgusted face as he barely touched the paper. “open it, i found it this morning” san said, sitting down next to him again. mingi gave his friends a strange look, before carefully opening the crumbled up piece of paper. as he read, his eyes widened in surprise.

“what time is it?!” he exclaimed. “9 pm” seonghwa answered, checking the time in his phone. mingi muttered a small fuck, before putting his shoes on, and grabbing his bag.

“i’ll be back in a while” he said, before shutting the door behind him.

seonghwa looked at san, confused. “what the hell did the paper say?” he asked. san picked it up from the floor and showed it to him:

“8 pm, our special place”.

the hand writing was yours.

———

mingi was almost sure he broke one or two speeding laws on his way to the park where he hoped you were still waiting at. he cursed san for not telling him sooner, even if he knew it wasn’t really his fault to begin with. the park wasn’t far from his apartment though, just a short 10 minute drive. as cliche as it sounds, it was the park were you both met.

at that time, around 6 years ago or so, his mind revolved around perfection, hard work, pressure, debut. so he would succumb to overwhelming feelings pretty often, that forced him to need some time alone. that’s how he found a park nearby, and specifically, one peculiar tree that caught his attention for some reason. he used to sit down under it, notebook on his lap and pen between his fingers, as he scribbled down some random thoughts that plagued his mind during hard moments. he didn’t really plan to turn his words into songs yet, it was just his way to deal with stress. he used to find these little moments very special: it was like he was reconnecting with his inner, truer self, and not the mean facade he wore in front of his soon to be members. yeah, some of them irked him, like that wooyoung guy, but he didn’t mean to be that rude all the time. so, to escape the constant pressure kq fellaz was facing in between the company walls, he found solace in a park, but specifically, he found solace under that tree.

he could remember the day he met you like it was yesterday. he remembers all the stress he was feeling, debut date coming closer and closer. everyone was on edge, from the members to the staff. he had also recently come back from morocco after successfully shooting his first music video! but he couldn’t deny it: as much as he was excited, he was already feeling a little tired. he needed some alone time, just himself with his thoughts. so he found himself walking towards his favorite spot in the park.

only to find you there, sitting down under the tree. his tree to be precise. and you were writing on a pink notebook with a fluffy pen. mingi felt like he was looking at a reflection of himself, but instead of being comforted by it, he felt annoyed. it was HIS tree after all!

“excuse me, this is my spot” he said, coming into your field of vision. you looked up to him, pausing your hand and taking an earphone off. “excuse me?”

“this is my spot” he reiterated, making you chuckle slightly. “the tree you mean? does it have your name or something?” you asked, finding the situation hilarious. he rolled his eyes in annoyance, why did nothing go his way?! “listen, i had a shitty day and i need to sit there for a while, so can you leave?”

“no, i got here first. plus there are tons of other trees here, it’s a park after all” you said, putting your earphone back on and turning your gaze to your notebook. he stayed still in his place in front of you, making you huff in annoyance at his persistence. “look dude, i am not going to move. you can either sit on the opposite side or leave, i don’t care but stop bothering me” you continued.

mingi really really reaaaally needed to be at his safe place, too overwhelmed to funcion rationally, so he rolled his eyes and sat on the opposite side of the tree.

that’s how the story started: at opposite sides of the tree. soon enough it got replaced by sitting nearby, and eventually next to each other. some times you would even bring snacks to share in silence, as you both wrote down your thoughts on your respective notebooks. once he debuted, he broke the silence for the first time, urging you to listen to his song. after that, you started talking more, about music, shows, your respective jobs and life in itself. the safe place you both found under the tree, was also found in each other, quickly realizing you often shared the same thoughts and views about the world.

the story started under a tree, and he hoped it wouldn’t end there too. he needed you to be there, because he wasn’t ready to lose not only his best friend, but also his safe place. even the tree would become stained from the pain. and he would have nothing left, just questions, questions, and more questions about different what ifs.

you weren’t there.

but mingi wasn’t about to give up anytime soon. he started running towards the direction of your apartment, forgetting that he had parked the car on the opposite direction. his legs were aching, and he felt like he was a bit out of breath, despite all the idol training he has been enduring for six years. but he kept running.

until he spot you in the distance.

“y/n!” he yelled. he saw you stop in your tracks and turn around to his direction, confused at the sudden call of your name. once you spotted him running towards you, you sprinted to him.

his body collapsed against yours, as he hugged you tightly, like you would disappear if he let you go. mingi hid his face in the crook of your neck as you wrapped your arms around his back. you could hear his quick heart beat from how close he held you, and you were sure he could hear yours too.

after a while, mingi lifted his head from your neck, and looked at you. “why are you crying?” he asked, wiping away the tears with his thumbs. “i thought you wouldn’t come, why are you crying mingi?” you asked, repeating his own actions, but on his cheeks. he giggled, he didn’t even realize he was crying. “i thought i lost you” he said, truthfully.

the park was dark, the only lights came from street lights. so, for outsiders, you probably looked like a random couple having a dramatic moment. definitely not mingi from idol group ateez and his best friend y/n reconciliating.

“i’m sorry” he whispered, locking his eyes with yours. they still held tears, that threatened to spill depending on your answer. you shook your head “no, i’m sorry mings, i shouldn’t have walked away like that. plus i didn't even give you a chance to explain”.

“i’m sorry for not showing you the songs, for not chasing you, and for being too much of a coward to not face you directly” he apologized. you hugged him again, shushing him. “i shouldn’t have pressured you to show me, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do”

mingi looked at you again, and bit his lip. “can i still show you though?”

“it’s not necessary, mingi, it’s fine real-“ you started saying before he interrupted you, taking your hand and leading you towards the same old place from before. “i want to” he said, determined.

you let him whisk you away.

———

back at the peculiar tree that was iluminated enough by a street lamp a few meters away, he sat you down at your usual spot. he sat down beside you, as he pulled out his notebook from his bag. mingi gave it to you.

“mingi, this really isn’t necessary-“ you started saying once again. “please” he interrupted, with pleading eyes. so you took his notebook and opened it on the first page. you already read that song, it was the first one he ever wrote a long while back. “read the last ones”

you turned the pages, until you found them. mingi looked at you nervously, starting to feel fidgety at the thought of you realizing his deepest secret, the only one he hid from you. he just hoped you wouldn’t hate him. he scanned your face, puffy eyes filling with tears once again as realization hit you. you turned your gaze back to him with wide, surprised eyes.

“mingi- what? wait, hold on” you stammered, as tears fell from your eyes. you quickly set his notebook aside to grab your own bag, taking out your new pink notebook, your diary. you handed it to him, saying: “open it on august 5th”

he stared at you confused, and slightly unsure too, since you’ve always been pretty secretive about what you wrote there. he found the page and read:

“august 5th.

so i realized something, that i’m almost too afraid to write even here. i’m scared that if i admit it, i’ll have to face a sad reality. i think i’m in love with my best friend, isn’t that stupid? that’s how i feel, at least. i haven’t seen him in a while because of his work, and i feel like i’m slowly losing my mind. why do i only feel complete when he’s with me? scratch that, why am i even writing this?

anyways, i’ll probably die with the secret”

“now turn to september 16th” you said, avoiding his eyes.

“september 16th.

i’m in love with my best friend. i love mingi. how insane is that? and how stupid? he is my best friend, for god’s sake. but i can’t help the way i feel, specially when he’s so annoyingly observant. like for example, the other day he noticed my pen was dying, so today he surprised me with a new fluffy pink pen. i hate him for making my heart swell at such gestures. specially because i know I KNOW that’s what best friends do.

anyways i’m not gonna use his pen because i decided i’m going to preserve it forever”

“and now, tun to november 10th” you muttered. mingi realized it was yesterday’s date.

“november 10th.

i still love him. and i fucked up. but i’m still in love with him”

he closed your notebook, turning towards you. he found you with your face on your knees, as you hugged your legs, too embarrassed to face him, despite now knowing his feelings. he loves you too, with the same devotion, with the same desperation and intensity. mingi loves you, his best friend.

“look at me, y/n” he whispered. you slowly lifted your head, hesitantly looking at him. the way you both looked at each other held more intimacy than ever. mingi slowly reached for you, bringing your face closer to his. his hold was shaky, almost unsure, this was a whole new territory. he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“i love you” he admitted.

too many questions, that finally got an answer.

“i love you too” you whispered.

taglist: @yoongles2025 @reallychaoticwoo

(to be added please let me know)

[lacydaydream]

Motivation

⤷ Dean Winchester

cw: porn with no plot, fingering, munch!dean, pet names [ sweetheart, sweet girl, good girl ], soft!dom dean, high school relationship (seniors!), smut language, edging, sigmund freud. I might have missed some!

estelle yaps: erm. this counts as studying, right?

word count: 1K

minors don’t interact! 18+

“C’mon.” Dean mumbles from between your legs, lips unlatching from your swollen clit. His breath ghosts over your cunt, warm and just so close to where you needed him. He kept himself right against you, kitten licking your slit every now and again. This was him being mean.

Giving you just enough to jolt every time but not enough to bring you to the edge. Dean knew what he wanted and the man would not stop until he got it.

His hungry eyes look up at you, the once emerald green down darkened. His pupils were blown out in ecstasy, as if your pussy was a honey pot filled with coke. Or some other drug that kept him addicted. Dean would live between your legs if he could. He’d survive off your broken moans and the sweetness of your arousal.

The hand that wasn’t pumping two fingers agonizingly slow inside you gripped at your thigh. Not hard. Just something to keep you grounded. Keep your eyes on him. Keep your mind on the task at hand.

A cry left your lips at the sudden loss, eyes casting down to watch him. You had been so close. Right at the brink, just about to fall. But he had asked another question and stopped when you didn’t answer in time. “mmph-“

“C’mon, sweetheart. talk to me about the levels of consciousness.” Dean bites back a wicked grin, knowing there was no way in hell you could actually be thinking about psychology right now.

In truth, he wanted you to fall apart on his fingers and into his mouth. The two of you had been here for almost half an hour. His wrist was just starting to get tired, his fingers no doubt pruned. But, he would wait. Watching you squirm and babbling was a sight far more beautiful to him.

His thick fingers continue working, curling into you. Once. He pulled his fingers almost all the way out before coaxing them back in. Then, he curled them to caress the spot that had your cunt drooling down his wrist. He cooed softly as you hips buck up. Withering beneath him from the stimulus.

The best thing about dating Dean Winchester was that he wanted you to succeed. Always. Not only did it make him feel good to know you felt good, but it also gave him another thing to brag about his girl. He had the best girl. The sweetest, most kind hearted, and equally badass girl to adore.

So, when you had been complaining about not wanting to study… he had acted fast. He knew that you hadn’t wanted to study because you were horny. The not-so subtly clench of your thighs was enough to have given you away. It was the easiest decision of his life. He needed to take care of his girl. And get her to study.. even if he couldn’t care less about school himself.

He’d get to hear you struggle to breath while he worked as many orgasms from you as he could. Yeah, he was jumping on that.

“we can stay here all night. makin’ this pretty pussy drool until you give me what I want.” When he adds a third finger, you scream. A devilish glint twinkles in his eyes. A smirk captures his lips.

“c-conscious..” Your hips lift to meet the trusts of his fingers. His large hard sprawls over your lower abdomen, keeping you in place on the bed. “fuck! preconscious and.. unconscious.

Fuck Dean sideways if he knew you were right. he barely paid attention to normal classes, let alone electives. Especially psychology.

He nods, pleased with your answer. “Atta girl.” His thumb gently glides over your clit, a small reward. “Who’s theory is that?”

His eyes leave yours, looking down to your puffy folds. God, you were soaked. Dripping down onto his bedsheets. His fingers were covered in you, dribbling down his wrist. He flicks his wrist, thrusts speeding up. “c’mon, sweet girl… I know you know it.”

It takes a minute for your brain to catch up to the question. His fingers were working you so perfectly, tightening the coil in your tummy. Blabbering wouldn’t cut it. You knew that.

“f-fucking Freud.” Your voice is high pitched, mewling as your head thrashes around, trying to chase after the high he was supplying you with.

That one, he did know. He remembered everything you said, the words falling from your lips like a hymn or gospel. You had complained about Freud every day, his mere existence pissing you off.

Dean couldn’t understand why. But you didn’t like him. So he didn’t like him.

“good job, sweetheart. that’s right.”

His lips find your clit again, sucking harshly. He groans at the taste of you. All sweet and dribbling down his chin like a fresh peach. The sucking noises he makes are pornographic, savoring every last drop of your essence.

His hand travels up to hold yours. Grounding you to this moment as he felt your walls clenching his fingers. The addition to his brutal pumping and sucking perfected the trifecta.

All you could think about was him. Burried in his pillows, the smell of woods and warm leather enveloping your senses. They were soft against your skin, stimulating every nerve in your system. His hand holding yours, the sweet contact as he absolutely ruined you, returned your focus to the moment.

The wave of pleasure washed over you quickly. Dean was right there with you, lapping every little drop up. He moans, the feeling of you gushing on his fingers almost making him ruin his pants.

His tongue licks at you, savoring every flick that brings him the sweet taste. He holds your hand gently, thumb rubbing against your knuckles.

His fingers burried in your cunt slow, letting you come down from your high slowly. He turns his face to kiss each of your inner thighs, touch gently as your legs shake.

Dean is absolutely covered in you. His nose, chin and mouth shine with your essence. And he’s smiling like a fucking idiot.

“There we go, sweetheart.” He watches as you shake, your breath slowing, the flush on your cheeks settling. “Did so good f’me. Always do. My good girl.”

He brings your hand up to his face, kissing the inside of your wrist gently. It’s a promise. It’s a marking. It’s everything that your fucked out mind could comprehend.

“Wanna study for chemistry next?”

estelle yaps some more: hello, my darling. my requests are open! join my taglist here

[vinceaddams]

Early 18th (and late 17th) century fashions are so under-utilized in vampire media and I think it's a damn shame.

I don't actually think I've ever seen a single image of a vampire character in an early 18th century suit. Hardly any movies set in that era either, and hardly any historical costumers who do it. (Even my beloved gay pirate show set in 1717 takes nearly all of its 18th century looks from the second half of the century. Not enough appreciation for baroque fashion!!)

Yes I love late 18th century fashion as much as anyone, and 19th century formal suits are all very well and good, but if you want something that says old, dead, wealthy, and slightly dishevelled, then the 1690's-1730's are where it's at.

(Retrato del Virrey Alencastre Noroña y Silva, Duque de Linares, ca. 1711-1723.)

There was so much dark velvet, and so many little metallic buttons & buttonholes. Blood red linings were VERY fashionable in this era, no matter what the colour of the rest of the suit was.

(Johann Christoph Freiherr von Bartenstein by Martin van Meytens the Younger, 1730's.)

The slits on the front of the shirts are super low, they button only at the collar, and it's fashionable to leave most of the waistcoat unbuttoned so the shirt sticks out, as seen in the above portraits.

(Portrait of Anne Louis Goislard de Montsabert, Comte de Richbourg-le-Toureil, 1734.)

Waistcoats are very long, coats are very full, and the cuffs are huge. But the sleeves are on the shorter side to show off more of that shirt, and the ruffles if it has them! Creepy undead hands with long nails would sit so nicely under those ruffles.

(1720's-30's, LACMA)

Embroidery designs are huge and chunky and often full of metallic threads, and the brocade designs even bigger.

(1730's, V&A, metal and silk embroidery on silk satin.)

Sometimes they did this fun thing where the coat would have contrasting cuffs made from the same fabric as the waistcoat.

(Niklaus Sigmund Steiger by Johann Rudolf Huber, 1724.)

Tell me this look isn't positively made for vampires!

(Portrait of Jean-Baptiste de Roll-Montpellier, 1713.)

(Yeah I am cherry-picking mostly red and black examples for this post, and there are plenty of non-vampire-y looking images from this time, but you get the idea!)

And the wrappers (at-home robes) were also cut very large, and, if you could afford it, made with incredible brocades.

(Portrait of a nobleman by Giovanni Maria delle Piane, no date given but I'd guess maybe 1680's or 90's.)

(Circle of Giovanni Maria delle Piane, no date given but I'd guess very late 17th or very early 18th century.)

Now that looks like a child who's been stuck at the same age for a hundred years if I ever saw one!

I don't know as much about the women's fashion from this era, but they had many equally large and elabourate things.

(1730's, Museo del Traje.)

(Don't believe The Met's shitty dating, this is a robe volante from probably the 1720's.)

(Mantua, c. 1708, The Met. No idea why they had to be that specific when they get other things wrong by entire decades but ok.)

(Portrait of Duchess Colavit Piccolomini, 1690's.)

(Maria van Buttinga-van Berghuys by Hermannus Collenius, 1717.)

Sometimes they also had these cute little devil horn hair curls that came down on either side of the forehead.

(Viago in drag Portrait of a lady, Italian School, c. 1690.)

Enough suave Victorian vampires, I want to see Baroque ones! With huge wigs and brocade coat cuffs so big they go past the elbow!

[ragazzoarcano]

“Sai perché le persone ci tengono tanto a ricevere un messaggio, o una chiamata, o un abbraccio, o un consiglio, un bacio? Perché prima di compiere un gesto c’ è il pensiero. Devi pensarci, per forza. Ed è questo che le persone vogliono: essere il pensiero che ha la smania di trasformarsi in un gesto.”

— Sigmund Freud

[huariqueje]

Summer evening  -   Sigmund Sinding , c. 1901.

Norwegian, 1875-1936

Oil on plate , 90.5 x 115 cm

[insurrection-if]

This will be hard to do I think :). Can you describe the romanceables' routes in a few words?

Ah, ‘a few words’?! ∑(; °Д°) My worst nightmare, haha!

Apologies for not cutting this all down further, and for the quality of what’s below, but I hope this is satisfactory! ദ്ദി(˶‾᷄ᗜ‾᷅˵ ᵕ) I tried to rush this to force the word count down as much as I could, but my poor wordy habits die hard (and not at all)!

Onto the main romances . . .

Akil: Forbidden. Challenged. A false betrayal to old ideals, corrupted loyalties. Learning to accept. Declaring his own path, following his heart before his mind. A tenuous tomorrow . . . unless he makes a better one for you both.

Kamiko: Fearful. Guarded. Bridging the divide, a new kind of strength. A new meaning for sacrifice. Quiet, devoted, a love built by trust. The shadow to your light.

Sigmund: Deceptively Slow, Suffocatingly Quick. Loyal, Sacrificial. Safer apart, but you're his. He wants you to be. Fears—and knows—he doesn’t deserve it.

Imka: Nervous. Startled. Helpless. Falling too quick, caring too much. Learning to be bold, to be herself. Learning to love herself like you do.

Elouan: Scarred. Wanting. Pleasant, but cold. Burning up within. Real love for the first time. Forgiving, or Forgetting.

Jae: Flighty. Teasing. Scared to Commit, Scared to be Yours. Looking past the present, washing down the past. She’ll be with you, sticking through hell and tomorrow. Bird without a cage.

Niccolò: Clumsy. Genuine. Flawed, imperfect, real. Peeling back the layers of the self, loving every bit. Facing eternity, immortality. And then, facing chaos before the end. What it means to be a human who loves.

Mutya: Grounding. Pinning. Unwinding, unraveling. Letting loose, standing firm. A pillar to lean on, one to support. Opening up to the vulnerability of love and hurt.

Fyodor: Star-Crossed. Soulmates, artificially made. Broken pieces forced together, ripped apart. Unstable. Glorified. Putting all his hopes in a dream, and learning to love the reality.

And for the others . . .

Dearil: Unwanted. Tearing up stitches, reclaiming what was lost and never his. Desperate to keep, bound to ruin.

Curadora: Wrong place, wrong time. Covert. Watched. Reunited, yet slipping from her grasp, pulled apart by the need for a new age and new people. Wait for her, please.

Retriever: Fast, messy, reigned back, and broken free. Hesitant on the outside, drowning within. Now or never, before the final piece of him meets the fall.

Lempo: Saccharine. Selfish. Unbound. Escaping the world, and oneself, together.

Bones: Regret. Recovery. Letting go. Pushing and pulling, the madness of love.

Mishka: Humanizing. Bitter. Eternal. First Love, Only Love. Doomed.

Thank you for this interesting ask! (´∀`)

[natalieironside]

Sigmund Freud, as the first true psychoanalyst, demonstrates to us that the best thing about being the first true whatever-it-is is you can just make up a bunch of fantastical counterfactual bullshit and ppl will buy it b/c who are they gonna listen to

[pranklinfierce]

I can't believe no one was willing to put this on

[nukethebees]

So folks here on Tumblr have established how characters like Beowulf, Dietrich of Bern, and as recently pointed out, Hua Mulan are all technically contemporaneous with King Arthur as their stories all occur within that period of c.400-600 AD. Other figures of this Heroic Age are Sigurd/Siegfried and his father Sigmund/Siegemund.

Now, if you consider the Volsunga saga version of Sigmund and Sigurd's story to be canon as opposed to the more chivalric Nibelungenlied, then one must consider how Odin is an active figure who appears at key moments in Sigmund's story, and Loki is a major part of the backstories of Fafnir and Regin.

Where I'm going with this is it raises the implication that along with all the Christian elements and the Celtic Otherworld, the Norse/Germanic gods also exist in some shape or form, which itself raises questions about the general cosmology of this Heroic Age.

I'm sure one can try to weave together something clever and coherent out of all this, or perhaps even leave it incoherent and purposefully ambiguous.

Just some food for thought.